once upon a december
by misguideddreamer
Summary: A collection of AU Kalijah fairy stories
1. Anastasia

_Summary: Hers is the story of hollowed cheeks and too wide eyes, of hazy memories she cannot quite recall. {Anastasia Kalijah AU}_

* * *

Hers is an unremarkable story, one of hollow cheeks and dulled brown eyes. They tell her she was found wandering the streets of Russia, too proud to beg even as young as she was, with a torn gown and a belly that was never full, even after being taken to the orphanage and eating three bowls of porridge. They call her Kat, because of a little chain around her neck that is engraved by those three letters and a charm of the Eiffel Tower.

They do not like her- Kat is always trying to feed the other children more, and engages them all in games that are far too loud for the somber greys of the orphanage. She is unsurprised when she is thrown into the snow on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, and told that she may find employment at the fish factory in the neighbouring town. Instead, she finds herself making the trek to St. Petersburg- Kat has never been afraid of adventure, and all she wants is to make sense of the hazy memories that cloud her mind and confuse her so.

"Find Elijah," a hag whispers when she is denied access to Paris, and she knows she must, for there is nothing left for her here.

She waits in the alleyways of with soot stained fingers for a man who they whisper will help her get to Paris. Kat does not ask for what price- she may have no money to offer him, but she is strong and resourceful and a woman besides. And anything is better than working in a fish factory while she has hazy dreams of glittering ballrooms and a woman with Snow White hair she has learned to identify as the Grand Duchess. Why the Grand Duchess appears so frequently in her dreams she cannot say, and lingering on her dreams only ever makes her head hurt.

By day, she works for anything she can get, often sweeping floors, often aiding chimney sweeps. And finally, there is a whisper that Elijah is in the Old Palace, the one everyone swears is controlled by ghosts of the last Tsar and Tsarina. She goes there anyway, dirtying her already filthy gown on the streets in her haste to get there. The wooden planks barring the main entrance set something stirring in her heart, and she pulls the wood with a strength in her arms she did not know she possessed. The doors come open easily, gliding as if pulled by spirits, and Kat steps inside.

x

For a moment she takes in the dirt encrusted marbled floor and the dusty gilding on the high ceiling, but all she sees in her mind's eye is swirling silks around her, brightly coloured as candies she sees in shop windows. There is a man that towers over her with the same dark hair as she, and instinctively she knows where to put her feet, and she curls into his embrace gently, salt tears falling from her eyes and onto her lips-

"Hey? What are you doing?"

Just like little pieces of glass, the illusion is shattered; all the vivd sights and smells are gone, and she is left with a cobwebbed hall with rusted chandeliers.

The man in front of her blinks, once, twice, when she looks up, and feels his undead breath catch in his throat. He has spent years studying these paintings, looking for a girl with a little nose and thick raven hair and a kind smile, a girl who was lost so long ago. "Katerina," He says, and she looks up at him with wide eyes.

"You're Elijah, right? I'm Kat." She walks towards him and sticks her hand out, and he notes the soot staining her fingernails and the rough surface of her palms. This cannot be Katerina, can it? He has searched far and wide, left no stone unturned in his quest to find the girl whose blood Klaus so desperately requires.

When his lips brush her knuckles, she gives a snort and wrenches her hand away from him, footsteps echoing on the cold stone of the ballroom. (This was once so brightly polished I could see my reflection in it). "I need to get to Paris." She says, turning away from him to look out at the chipped crystal chandeliers. "I was told you could get me there."

"Elijah," Rebekah says, descending the staircase with all the grace of a Queen, "we need to get moving."

Kat turns to look at the feminine voice and finds herself speechless. No more than seventeen, but this girl has hair like spun gold, falling straight to her waist, and sapphire blue eyes. She looks at Kat with a faintly surprised expression, before rolling her eyes and continuing.

"I could get you to Paris," Elijah says thoughtfully, careful not to look at the girl who looks like one he knew so long ago, a highborn lady who let him kiss her (oh, but only if you ask me nicely, she'd say), "but I only have one ticket, and that is for the long lost Duchess Katerina."

"But everyone knows the Grand Duchess was lost over a decade ago, and that she is not coming back." A tiny frown, appears on the pale marble of her forehead, and he wonders how she has got this far so completely unaware of her beauty.

Rebekah catches on quickly, smiling innocently and sweeping over to Kat, laying her hand on her arm. "Was she?" She asks with a peculiar smile. "Everyone knows the Grand Duchess was sent to an orphanage to keep her safe, and we're only looking for her.

Kat thinks- she was left out in the snow the same night the Grand Duchess disappeared, and named for her because she remembered nothing, save for some snatches of song, and the smell of mints. The idea plants itself firmly in her mind.

"In fact," Elijah is careful to keep his words slow, and exaggerates a look over her face, "you look almost exactly like her, now I look at you properly. Where did you say you were from?"

"I'm from an orphanage," Rebekah gives a gasp and pulls Kat by the arm to one of the numerous paintings lining the ballroom walls.

It's dusty, and purple and blue paints are faded, but her face is there. She can see herself in the young Grand Duchess, and her hands go out to touch the face, remembering the hours she sat still to pose for this particular protest, and she can't tell if this is a memory or a dream.

"It's you, you are the Grand Duchess Katerina!"

"I suppose the ticket is for you then," Elijah smiles at her, and Kat reminds herself that she was absolutely prepared to do whatever it took to get to Paris, and she would be a fool not to take this chance. So she smiles as prettily and innocently as she can muster, and thinks- _I am the Grand Duchess. _

x

{"You could have just compelled her," He whispers to Rebekah while they are waiting for the train. And Rebekah smiles at him, and runs her own gloved fingers over his arm, slow and deliberate so he shivers.

"But brother, that's not fun at all."}

They catch a train, and Kat runs her ungloved fingers- still black with soot, still dirty, but these are Duchess' fingers- along the rich cherry wood of the compartment when no one is looking. She inahles the scent of the fresh baked bread Rebekah brings for them, but is careful to eat it slowly (they must not know that her stomach is an animal, howling for more, she must be the epitome of a lady, for she is royal now).

She sleeps easily, exhausted from the day and content to curl up into the plush velvet of her seat, aware that the soot on her fingers is marking the fabric yet too tired to care.

"Sleep well?" He asks her in the morning, and she doesn't like the gleam in his eyes.

"What is it to you?"

"I only wish to see to my Grand Duchess's comfort," and he is _mocking _her, with laughing eyes yet a firm line of a mouth.

"Rebekah is so much _nicer _than you are," She spits at him, and he has half a mind to tell her that Rebekah sees her as only prey to be eaten and nothing more. Rebekah will savour her as if she is a delicacy (and she _is_, Kat is the finest he has ever seen) until she has no voice left to scream with.

x

They crash, and Kat hears the whisper of 'witches' that escapes Elijah's lips as they watch the remainder of their train go up in flames from where they lie on the crushed snow. "We have to help them!" She cries, and it is a shrill, human sound that makes Rebekah cringe and put an arm around her to comfort her.

"Help is on its way for them, but we must leave now if you are to be reunited with your grandmother in time for her birthday celebrations."

She lets them lead her away, one pale fist clenched around the necklace at her throat, and she stumbles into the woods with them, the two beautiful siblings who want to help her and save her.

The ship is less grand than before, and already Kat finds herself wrinkling her nose when one of the deckhands makes a lewd remark towards her; she is forgotten that to the rest of the world, she still looks the same as Kat, a beggar girl dressed in a filthy grey gown of simple, itchy wool.

Elijah comes to find her, something tissue paper wrapped in his hands, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "It's for you," He says, and his voice is low and gravelly as he shakes the dress free of its wrappings.

It is beautiful; she has never seen any lady wear anything so pretty as the simple blue dress, cinched in place by a white satin sash, and she is already imagining the feel of the fabric against her bare legs.

"Thank you," She says, and realises it's the only nice thing she has ever said to him. "It's beautiful."

He frowns as if he is unused to compliments, and she giggles and leaves to change into it.

"You two should waltz," Rebekah's eyes light up as she grasps their hands and joins them together. "A Duchess must know how to waltz."

Kat takes his hand with a shy smile and looks downwards; she is unused to presents that are not hastily scribbled drawings from children. His hands span the width of her waist as he spins her, and her laugh spirals and rises, echoing over the water and catching in his heart.

She watches his face change as the dance, and is careful to grip him a little tighter when he spins her. She enjoys ensnaring men, new as this experience is to her. The waters below turn inky black and swirl with the promise of a storm, but still he holds her up to him, and she watches shadows play over his face as he begins to lean in, and she angles her face shut and allows her eyelids to flutter close in anticipation-

Rebekah clears her throat.

x

_Jump, you will fly. _Her dreams whisper, and she barely registers the rough wood of the floorboards beneath her feet. _You are better off without them anyway, better off dead than used. Take another step, Katerina. Take another, one more._

There is a spray of salt around her face, and she grips the mast with wide, unseeing eyes, one small bare foot extended in front of her. _It would be so easy,_ her dreams say, and she sees a man she knows is her father reach for her. _I have missed you, _he whispers, arms outstretched, and she loosens her grip on the mast.

"Kat!" He shouts, and pulls her off the mast and into the circle of his arms.

She blinks up at him, and lets out a shocked cry.

"What happened? What did I do- I'm not-" _Shh,_ he thinks, and holds her close to his chest, pretending he doesn't notice the press of her against him. She feels the hot tears roll down her face and clings to him tightly, only pulling away in the slightest when they stop falling.

"You're alright," He promises, and impulsively brushes his lips over her cheek. He can count her eyelashes, he is so close.

She leans up and kisses him, hesitantly at first- this is her first kiss, how is she to know what to do?- just a little brush at first. And then another, and another, until her lips are bruised and all she can taste is him mingled with salt water.

As she pulls away to look at his face with a wide smile, she thinks this is what falling in love must feel like,

x

"Teach me how to be a Duchess," She asks Rebekah as they walk through the country fields, splashed with greens and pinks, and long grasses that tickle her feet under her dress.

"Be gracious, keep your head high and back straight," Rebekah advises, and makes Elijah fetch them a stick to put on Kat's head. She is careful to brush her fingers over Elijah's and send him a secret smile when he does pass her the stick, a blush blooming on her cheeks.

{"Klaus is growing restless" Rebekah whispers as they watch Kat walk ahead of them, "He will kill her and make it messy." He watches Kat bend and thread a flower into her hair, the white daisy stark against the wavy length of it.

He has curled his fingers through the length of that hair, he cannot stand by and watch them kill her, _he can't_.}

Instead he comes level with her and she smiles and threads her fingers through his own, like a spider spreading her web.

"I have gowns for you, in Paris," Rebekah lures her in, ready to trap her and spirit her away, and Kat's eyes light up but she is careful to keep Elijah's hands in her own.

"You don't need gowns to look beautiful," he whispers into the soft skin at the nape of her neck, and thinks how easy it would be to drain her dry.

Kat giggles and loosens her grip on him, twirling in her new dress with the grass cushioning her barefeet. Rebekah links her arm through Kat's and they walk, light and dark together, although Kat is the true light and Rebekah the true dark.

x

They drive in a motorcar to get to Paris, and Kat tries to be composed as royalty should be, but cannot stop herself from crawling to the window and looking out at the glittering city laid out before her.

_I could rule the word,_ she thinks as her fingers trace the fog her breath makes on the glass. She feels so far away from home now (the orphanage was not home, but the children and their laughter was) and she feels an inexplicable sense of loss, as if she has lost herself and there is nothing there anymore, just a shell of a girl pretending.

She slides across the leather of the seats and curls up under the broad length of Elijah's arm, inhaling his scent of wood and fine wine.

They pull up outside the mansion, and she feels the crunch of the white stone beneath her feet as she looks up to the white marble of the house, greater than any she has ever seen. "Go inside," Elijah says, giving her a gentle push. "I'll wait out here."

He is sending her to the lion's den alone, and she feels a brief sense of panic before she straightens her back and walks as they taught her to do, measured steps to the front door. She has barely wrapped on the lion knocker once before a hand graps her and pulls her inside.

"Katerina," someone says, and the smell of mint surrounds her (the powdered feel of someone's cheek against her own, the kisses before bed and the mints she used to sneak to Kat's bed).

She realises her grandmother is shaking. "Grandmama," She cries, "Whatever is the matter?"

"They are monsters- you have to run or they will eat you alive. The boy out there- he wants your blood. You must go, before they catch you."

"But Elijah loves me-"

"He places family above all. I have a letter he sent to his brother not two days ago, finalising his plans to kill you. You have royal blood, darling, and he wants that."

Kat feels her world waver, then shatter all around her.

x

Outside, Elijah strains to hear any sounds of Kat, but finds all he can hear is the sound of leaves crunching underfoot- fiery leaves, autumn reds- and her own, frantic breath.

She has run, and he must follow, or Klaus will catch her and kill her.

Katerina feels the frightened whoosh of her own breath in her ears, building and building into a tsunami, and she has to stop and lean against a tree, just for a few seconds-

Elijah is there.

She stumbles, back, turning, skirts in hand, but he is there again.

Back again, but he follows.

"What are you?" She screams, and he looks at her grimly.

"You have to trust me." And she is laughing, shakily with her back to the tree, for he is surely deluded.

"I don't want your blood- but my brother does. Just take a chance and I will get you out of here."

"Please," he begs, when she shakes her head, his forearms coming out to ensnare her.

"I love you," he says, and something inside her tells her that he is telling the truth.

"Take me away," She whispers, and he lifts her into his arms and begins to run.

x

She ends up in his manor in England, hiding away from any siblings in the cold countryside, so dreary and grey.

"We will defeat him together," He says of Klaus, and they begin to plot.

x

"Turn me," she asks after they have had sex and are tangled in the sweaty sheets, while he presses kisses down the smooth column of her throat.

"You'll be stuck with me forever then," He laughs, and she uses a slender finger to bring his face back up to hers,

"I love you," She promises, and kisses him again, just as wanting as ever.

"Turn me," She asks again, later that same night, when the sun is painting the sky a pale blue, and he agrees.

x

_fin_

* * *

_a/n; this originally started out as a drabble for an anon on tumblr and exploded into this._


	2. rapunzel

Katerina is sold by her father to the highest bidder that will take her, and promptly shut up. In the corner of an umnamed forest they take her to, there is a lone tower, glowing white against the green of the trees.

"Go up," They say, and she does.

Her rooms are comfortable- painted duck egg blue, hung with famous portraits and landscapes.

"Ask us if you need anything," They say, and she understands she will not be leaving for a while.

* * *

She paints, pretty little miniatures from her tower at first, the brushstrokes sloppy and the paints smeared from where her hands shook. _Crying will do you no use now, _she tells herself firmly as she continues to paint miniatures of baby girls with olive skin and huge black eyes.

They burn. She burns the likeness of her daughter herself and refuses to cry while she does it. The lord whom she was sold to (after she defiled herself- sold to some English lord who had a thing for pretty young Bulgarian girls that were worth nothing back home) is the only thing keeping her alive, and she must practice how she should appear before him.

The servants come to her like clockwork, every morning before the sun rises and every evening after it sets. She only has to say something, any word, and whatever she wishes for will be placed in front of her. At first she wants expensive delicacies: a platter of sweetmeats she used to get each year on her birthday; a set of expensive oil paints; a new gown of crushed velvet that she barely touches she is so in awe of it; even amethysts and diamonds and sapphires. After a time, however, she finds herself aching for human company and asks only for the berries that used to go on her families' farm in Bulgaria.

_I will go mad,_ she thinks after a week of no human company, and resorts to painting places where she wishes to be instead of this high tower she will never leave.

She walks amongst her own paintings in her mind; one moment she feels tiny grains of sand under her feet, her gown lifted just the slightest bit to expose her feet to the sea, which is cold enough to make her shiver and warm enough to make her laugh.

(There is a man. A man whose face she has worked so hard to forget, one who laughs at everything she says and one who looks at her as if she hangs the moon.)

Or maybe- a palace with an empty throne, a palace covered in dust that waits for Katerina Petrova to come and bring it to life.

Her hands stain pink and purple and green and red, and she runs her fingers over her own face and imagines throwing herself from the tower, until she lies broken on the stones below, young enough for all the smallfolk to claim- oh, such a tragedy, she died far too young- and her mother and father to cry and wish they'd never let her go.

* * *

"Bring me wine," She says on the second week, and drinks herself into oblivion.

_I can't go on, _she writes with shaky hands stained red with wine, _I can't- I will not-_ and flings the letter from her window.

"Fly," She whispers into the cool night air, folding the letter into a bird like one of the stable hands told her to.

She will fly soon, she promises herself. If no one comes for me, I will fly.

x

On the third week, she is told one of the Lords is coming to meet her. She spends hours selecting a gown from the ones she has been provided with, finally choosing one of purple velvet with gold brocade.

She instructs the maids to pull her corset tighter, to push her breasts up higher- for a Lord is still only a man after all, and Katerina understands men.

Understands men well enough to smear wine on her lips and bite them to increase their fullness, to pinch her cheeks the slightest and smear kohl under her eyes to make them glitter, and to leave her hair unbound and perfumed to her waist.

"Hello," he says before he kisses her hand, and she tries to think of the correct greeting in English and finds herself fumbling, so only inclines her head and looks at him with a smirk.

He is slow to lift his lips from her knuckles, and when his eyes meet hers, she notes the darkness growing in them with a silent satisfaction.

"Hello," She echoes after he steps back (but not far enough to be proper, no, this man already craves her far too much for propriety).

"Bulgaria, right?" He says in her mother tongue, and she is transported to her homeland where she could speak freely and roam freely, in fields of wheatgrass or in the town centre.

"You are beautiful," He whispers to her after a few too many glasses of wine, as if it's some huge secret she is unaware of. She scrapes her nails gently over the soft skin of his face, and thanks him prettily.

"I like to paint," She admits when he asks, but refuses to show him her paintings.

He stays until the sky is awash with pale blue, and when he takes his leave of her, she wants to scream at him for leaving her- he _can't_, not when this is the first human contact she has had in nearly a month.

"Goodbye," my lord, she curtseys, dipping her head low to the floor and feeling the unfamiliar clink of diamonds inside the crevice of her breasts.

"Call me Elijah," He says, and then he is gone.

* * *

She sleeps in a simple white nightgown, soft cotton against her bare skin. More often than not, she cannot sleep, and all she does is pace around her round tower cell, her steps a careful- _one, two _ as she does.

In her dreams, she dies, in a number of horrifying ways. She watches blood run from her throat in a river as she falls to the floor, like a tree that has been felled. She watches herself thrown from the tiny window of her tower, her pale neck at an odd angle to the rest of her body.

_Death is not poetic,_ she thinks, _and death is not pretty._

* * *

He comes to sit with her every evening, but she only becomes more and more restless. He asks her to sing one night, and she snaps at him that she can feel a cold coming on, and abruptly begins to cry.

"Whatever is the matter?" He asks, and she wishes she was not crying like a little child, for her tears are a powerful weapon and should be wielded properly.

"I have no one to talk to here, I am so incredibly lonely I feel I must _die _rather than continue like this," She spits at him from the floor of her chamber, and he comes to sit next to her. Katerina curls up against him as if she was the family cat, burying her face and smile in the soft, thick fabric of his sweater.

"You have me," and he sounds surprised, as if he is the only one she should ever want, and she thinks _men, always giving themselves far too much importance._

"But you cannot be with me all the time," she strokes his face with soft fingers, and wonders if she is to be his mistress. She would not mind that. Mistresses can manipulate, and they can do anything they please.

"I shall look into it," he promises, and she brushes her lips against his in thanks. It's difficult, trying to make him fall in love with her, while she herself is doing her best not to fall in love with him.

She curls her fingers into his hair and brings his face close to hers- so close she can hear that he is not breathing (he is holding his breath at her proximity, how delightful).

"Thank you," she murmurs against his lips.

She was born to do this.

* * *

The man sent to keep her company is called Trevor, and he lives in awe of her and everything she does. She enjoys pushing him, exposing a little more of herself every day, little by little until he burns for her. She waits with flashing eyes until he can take it no more, and falls to his feet professing his absolute love for her…

(Elijah required a gentler touch than this one, and the man before was easier still. Katerina thinks she can take over all of the world with nothing but her face and sparkling wit.)

* * *

"Show me your paintings," Elijah asks again, and she replies in near perfect English, tossing back the length of her perfumed hair so the scent of roses catches in his nose.

They are beautiful, she knows, she is much improved since she began, and barely a day goes by now without her turning to her paints to paint a scene she pictures in her mind's eye. She paints her family farm, she paints the church, she paints the outside of her tower, she has even painted the meadows where she first fell in love, but she never again paints her daughter.

"Can you paint me something?" He asks, and she smiles and turns to her easel.

"I have a brother who enjoys painting," He adds, taking a seat next to her on the plush window seat.

His thigh brushes her own and she pauses, discarding her brush and turning to him. "Maybe I can meet this brother of yours someday," and she leans over and brushes her lips across his again, feather light.

"I am tired of waiting," He says, and kisses her.

It is not like the other fumbling kisses she has given- Elijah is firm yet gentle. He handles her as if she is a porcelain doll, and it is she who initiates the deepening of the kiss, running her tongue gently over his lips and climbing fully on top of him.

When they finish, she is blushing deeper than she ever has before, and his big hands are bunched in the silk of her gown, his forehead resting against hers. She exhales a ragged breath, torn like the letters she wrote in the first week of her captivity, and bites her already swollen bottom lip.

"I must confess I haven't been completely honest with you," she threads her fingers through his and nods encouragingly.

"My brother wants to kill you." It's a statement, it has fallen from his lips, but Kat cannot hear it. She finds herself pulling away from him, but his arms tighten around her and lock her in place.

"Listen to me- Katerina please- I have a plan- you have to trust me!"

"Of course I trust you," so simple, so sweet, he can't possibly know she is crossing her fingers behind her back.

* * *

"Get me out of here!" She shrieks to Trevor, once the terrible, awful truth about Lord Niklaus is revealed to her. "_You have to! Please, help me!" _

He kisses her, more feverent than Elijah and she holds onto him because he is her last hope.

She tries to ignore the fact that she feels like she's betraying Elijah, but she can't- not when Elijah has spent weeks dawdling, and she's just been informed by Trevor that Klaus is coming for her.

_ I cannot place my life in this man's hands, _she thinks. _I must deal with things myself._

* * *

The clock on the black fireplace in her room begins to tick very loudly. Katerina finds herself listening for the chime of the hour with strained hours, waiting for proof that she has indeed, survived another night.

Elijah comes to her the night before Klaus is due to come for her with a grim face that she takes to mean he understands that this night will be their last.

"I was waiting for you," She stands when he enters her chambers and walks towards him with large strides, pulling his face down to meet hers by his collar.

_I do not blame him,_ she realises, _although a wiser woman would._

Katerina has never had sex that was anything but passionate, and this time is no exception. She finds herself comparing Elijah to the one before, finds herself analysing every last hitch of breath, every gasp, every moan.

Even after he has rolled off her and is stroking her hair, she watches flames dance from beneath closed eyelids.

"You have ruined me," She whispers even though she knows it is a lie, that he is as much a monster as Klaus, wrapping herself in the bedsheets and sitting up on the bed. She hears the rustle of bedsheets as he sits up behind her and presses a kiss to her back, then her neck.

"My only option is to marry you then," Katerina feels her eyes fill with tears because she should be ecstatic, little ruined Kat who has just been proposed to by a lord.

A lord who will stand by and do nothing while his brother rips into her throat and drinks deep, and all because he is honourable.

"Marry me now," She twists to face him and cups his face in her hands, in a last resort to convince him she is worth saving. "Let's run away together, Elijah, and make a life for ourselves elsewhere."

It is only when he shakes his head that she feels the cold stone of disappointment slide into her stomach and realises she has made the right decision.

* * *

She steals away in the dead of night, when the moon is nothing but a glittering halo in the starry night sky. The woods seem to come alive- every rustle, every snap of twigs convinces Katerina that she is going to die.

"Katerina-" Trevor says, pulling her round to meet him and she knows instinctively that he will come no further with her.

"No," She gasps, clutching his hand tighter, and he disentangles himself from her and cups her face.

"You will be fine," He starts, and she forces herself to nod, breath coming out in helpless pants. "Find a cottage, and say I sent you. You will be safe." He drops a kiss on her forehead and she knows it should not him here, and that Elijah should be the one helping her escape.

As she hurries away from him into the darkness, she cannot help but think of Elijah, sitting in her tower, waiting for her.

* * *

They meet again in the Sahara Desert, undercover of night, and he finds her just as much of a monster as he is.

Katerina looks up at him with tired eyes that still sparkle, and flinches.

"You betrayed me," she says, and it is his turn to flinch, because she is telling the truth. He plucked up the courage to stand up to Klaus far too late and he has paid the price, in the last hundred years since she has seen him.

"I know," is all he can offer, sitting down in the cool sand beside her. "And I'm sorry."

She looks at him sadly, reaching out to place a hand in one of his own. "I loved you, and then I hated you, and now I'm tired of being alone, and more tired of running."

"Let me help you," he clings onto her hand like it is the only thing that could ever keep him anchored.

"Can I trust you?" She breathes, and he watches the pale glow of her skin in the moonlight with an odd feeling that he knows is love.

"Yes," He promises, clasping both of her hands in his, and kneels to the sand by her feet.

"Get up, you fool!" She laughs at him from where he stands, and they think that maybe, just maybe, there is a future for them after all.

* * *

A/N; Shoutout to LisaLevine for convincing me to do this.

Does anyone have any fairytale requests? I just want Katherine and Elijah to be happy :(((((


	3. beauty and the beast

_Warning: there is a lot of torture and gore in this one_

* * *

Katherine Pierce finds herself in a small town among the bright forests of Pennsylvania one autumn day, and she won't say why, but she decides to stay there. The town is as sickening as all small towns are- everyone knows everyone, and they all seem to have an extraordinary desire for gossip. It suits her well enough.

Elizabeth comes to her door the night before Hallow's Eve with a small smile and a tray of chocolate chip cookies, cut into bats and cauldrons and witches. Katherine has to resist the urge to either slam the heavy oak door into her face, or to pull her into the house and drink deeply from her. Her fangs burn just thinking about it, but she forces herself to stop- the way Elizabeth is twisting her fingers and looking at the floor is a direct indication that she wants to be invited in. Katherine lets out a self suffering sigh and does as Elizabeth wants, offering her a mug of tea as they take seats on her rough wooden dining table.

"What's the matter?" Katherine drawls, but sweet little Elizabeth with her wide blue eyes misses all the irony and instead bursts into tears.

"I'm the sacrifice!" Elizabeth wails, putting her head in her hands and sniffing in an effort to quell her sobs (it's weird that vampires are the ones with heightened emotions yet it is humans that tend to be fit to bursts of emotion)

"The sacrifice for what?" This town is rather odd, Katherine muses, with all of the occupants looking at her a little too long from their porches, greedy eyes and greedy hands that seem to take and take and take.

(I once knew a man that took everything from me)

Between Elizabeth's hysterical sobs, Katherine cannot make out a single word she says. "Calm down," She snaps, and miraculously, Elizabeth does.

"It's just- I shouldn't be telling you this-but I just need to talk to someone and everyone else agreed it should be me and-"

"Get to the point," Katherine impatiently curls her fingers around her mug and looks out of her kitchen window and to the night sky, already tinged with pink. She needs to hunt, and she needs to do it soon.

"Every Halloween, they send one of us up to the Manor. No one know what happens, because no one ever comes back."

The Manor spirals out at the top of the hills overlooking the town, large and imposing and surrounded by acres and acres of rolling fields and forests. No one ever tells her who lives there, but now it seems that there is only a vampire there, using fear to ensure he or she has at least one human a year.

Katherine tuts, because really- it's so careless, so cliched, and surely one human a year is far too boring.

"How long has this been going on?" She asks, getting to her feet as swiftly as possible.

"You can't tell anyone!" Elizabeth looks at her with bunny rabbit eyes as she tugs on the sleeve of Katherine's new leather jacket. This is human is far too troublesome for her taste, and so she compels her to shut up and go home.

Then she sets off for the Manor herself, because she's keen to meet this vampire that can apparently survive on one human a year.

* * *

It's only when Katherine reaches the huge wrought iron gates that slip apart easily for her that she thinks of the possibility that something could be wrong. It's only when she sees the sigil on the heavy double doors of the Manor that she realises what is wrong.

_The Originals._

Always and forever, she thinks, and speeds back up to the gates, praying (and she hasn't prayed in centuries, so what good will it do now?) that it is not the brother she thinks it is inside there.

"Hello, Katerina darling," Klaus says with a smirk when she reaches the gates, and she brings her stiletto down to crush his foot and tries to scream, but everything is going black as his hands close around her throat and she knows he is about to snap her neck but can't do anything to stop it-

Then everything is black for a while.

* * *

When she wakes, she is in a cell and the smell of pumpkin spice that followed everyone in that stupid town around is finally gone. It's been replaced by heavy shackles that chain her to the wall, and Katherine knows the smell of this place because she has been here so many times before. The scent of blood fills her nose, and above it, ever present around Klaus, is the smell of fear and a crushing desperation that will rise up inside you and choke you if you are not careful.

The shackles do not budge, no matter how hard she pushes against the mossy wall of cell and finally she gives in, sinking to the floor by her feet with her arms dangling uselessly above her.

She's been so stupid, but there is no time to dwell on that now, not when Klaus will come for hiss revenge and surely kill her- but not painlessly. I shall not die, she promises herself, not today, nor tomorrow.

A mangled shout rips out of someone's throat some way away, and Katherine wishes she could close her ears, but these cells are built so that the occupants can hear the torture around it, can almost feel it, until all of their hope is gone and they are putty in Klaus' far too capable hands.

But she knows Klaus- maybe not as well as she'd like to- but well enough to know his weaknesses and do his best to exploit them. It would be better if she was blonde...he has always had a thing for pretty blondes that looked a little like his sister if you squinted enough. The thought sends a chill running through her that is most certainly not Katherine; Katherine learnt long ago not to be scared by anything the world would throw at her.

She lets out a shuddering breath which she doesn't need and tries to think of something that will block out the screams (tries to think that maybe it won't be her screaming in a bit)

Worryingly, it is Elijah's face that comes to the forefront of her mind, and it is one she has tried to pretend does not exist for so many centuries. She wonders what he is doing now before reminding herself that she shouldn't care, and going back to thinking about Stefan and wondering whether or not it was safe wherever he was.

The screams stop. The Manor seems to quiver with the new found silence, and Katherine drops her head to glare at the floor once more. He is coming for her.

* * *

"You should never have run," He says as he digs his knife into the soft flesh of her stomach. She suppresses a groan and forces herself to look him directly in the eyes. "Your life was worth nothing."

"If I just slipped this knife a little higher, if I swapped it for one of the stakes I had, I could kill you, right now. I will- I will kill you this time, but a clean death is no fun. You know that." Brown eyes meet blue ones in the darkness, and she narrows hers before pushing off the wall with one foot and ramming the other directly in his face.

He lets out a howl of pain and disbelief and pulls at the glittering necklace on her throat, tugging and tugging until she can see the purple marks form there and then fade just as quickly. Her nails grasp for a hold on the rough stone, and skitter over it as her hands fall in the shackles once more. She clenches her jaw.

"It's not abuse if the marks fade," He cackles, and she lets out a mangled scream, piercing and high as his knife makes contact with her throat, then runs down her arm.

"You are not unique," Klaus dips a finger in the blood caking her neck and licks it with another laugh, "the only thing that set you apart from any other peasant girl was the blood that used to flow through you veins. But it flows no more, so you are as ordinary as any other."

"You are not unique either," she rasps, spitting out a mouthful of blood into his face. "A young boy with daddy issues and a bloodthirsty sadistic nature because of neglect, the only thing that set you apart from the rest of us was your mother. Without her, you would have lived a normal life. Without her, you are nothing."

And then he makes sure she can't say anything, or do anything more than scream. Katherine refuses to scream, locking her jaw stubbornly as her head cracks against the wall behind her, over and over. She clenches her fingers into fists in their chains as he uses his knife on her and sends her spiraling into this delirious half sleep where she is mad with pain.

She dreams of her mother stroking her hair as she sings Kat to sleep as a four year old, she dreams of dancing in the meadows with the other children with flowers in their hair and grass stained feet. She keeps dreaming until she can feel nothing anymore, and can see nothing other than the red mist of pain that does surround her.

* * *

C_ome with me,_ Elijah says in her dreams. _Take my hand and we'll run so far he will never catch us. I will take you to the moon. _

She takes his hand with a smile and an _I was waiting for you to show up_, and the two of them disappear to Paris and pretend nothing ever went wrong between them and they are happily married.

The first thing she sees when she cracks open an eye is the spill of her own dark hair on the white pillowcase, so plump it can only be a hotel pillow. There is blood in her nails and on her skin, she realises with dismay as she slowly sits up, the sheets falling off her.

Whoever brought her there has removed her leather jacket and heels, but her arms are still caked in blood, as is her throat and the back of her head. She needs a shower. But first, she decides, she needs to find out who brought her here.

There is a figure silhouetted in the window, and she only knows one man who wears suits that fit him quite like _that_.

"Elijah," She says when she realises she is not still hallucinating, and he turns to face her with a sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"We're in my penthouse," He says, running his fingers through his hair and coming to stand before her. "I'm sorry for what Klaus did to you."

"It's none of your business." and she turns to leave, wondering where her shoes are but sure she will walk out of here barefoot if she has to. She can't quite bring herself to say- _it's not your fault_- because it is, he was the one that hunted her like an animal through the woods.

"Where are you going?"

"I wasn't aware that you wanted me to stay."

"Of course I-" He looks conflicted and hurt all at once and she wonders absentmindedly if his lips will taste the same as they used to. "At least take a shower."

She does, and doesn't ask where he manages to find fresh clothes in exactly her size afterwards. Instead, Katherine consoles herself with the thought that she will be able to leave soon enough, and pushes the thought that she doesn't really want to. She wants to share stories with Elijah of the past few centuries, the kind of silly reminiscing she always laughs at.

It is only when he knocks on the bathroom door while she is getting dressed to ask her ever so politely what blood type she would like that it sinks in that this is real, and with it comes the fear that he may be looking to save her. It's not your job, she wants to scream, or maybe let him know that the only person who has ever saved Katherine Pierce is herself.

* * *

Her bare feet look oddly vulnerable against the monstrous expanse of marble that is Elijah's hallway, and she steps out of the shower with ribbons of steam crowding around her. The blood feels as though it is still caked on her skin, and she shudders slightly at the feel of it, dry and cracking.

The slightest stumble sends her clutching the wall for support, and Katherine hates this part- the part where she is so weak she can barely force her fangs out for blood, and she is reduced to nothing more than a trembling shell of herself. Mostly she hates that it is Elijah who will see her like this, the one man she had vowed to always remain unbent before, and he will see her as a cowed, weak thing now.

In the black hours of the night, Elijah feeds her his own blood from his wrist, and Katherine swears she can feel his pulse beating through her in the moments when his blood fills her mouth and she looks at him with wide eyes.

Anyone would think him unaffected, but when Katherine slumps back against the plush leather of the couch, she catches the tremor in his fingers and knows he wants her more that she wants him.

"Stay," he whispers to her as the first streams of morning light begin to filter into the room and she places her hand in his and allows him to carry him to his room. They lie curled around each other like cats, and Katherine clutches the soft fabric of his t-shirt and thinks that if she were human, she would like to grow old with him.

x

When dawn breaks fully, she leaves the flat for the streets of Paris with a desperation that claws at her insides and shreds them. He makes her forget who she is and makes her forget how to breathe-

His hand comes to rest on her shoulder gently not ten minutes later, when she's in Valentino looking at jeans. Katherine doesn't even bother to turn, and prefers to continue picking jeans she knows she won't pay for.

"Have a coffee with me?" He asks, and she knows that this so truly a request that she can decline, and that is the only reason she goes with him to a tiny cafe surrounded by citrus trees that give off a tangy scent.

"I missed you," he shifts slightly in his chair- and this confession must be costing him a lot, considering how solid and stoic Elijah always was.

"For centuries?" She smirks and flips one side of her slightly deflated curls over her shoulder.

"For centuries."

"Must I remind you that it was you who hunted me and forced me to run?"

"I had a plan!" He bursts out, and she raises an eyebrow because she only remembers Elijah raising his voice in her presence- _I can smell your blood._

"I was not going to wait around for you, especially when you weren't exactly quick to come to my rescue, so forgive me for not willingly going to my death."

Katherine rises from her seat and spins on her bloodstained stilettos when his voice makes her stop in her tracks.

"I loved you" he calls, almost as if it is nothing.

"What?" She breathes, turning to face him once more. "You can't have."

"I swear it," he says, one corner of his mouth curving as she takes a step slightly forward. "I want to get to know you again, Kater-Katherine."

She takes a seat on the wrought iron chair.

* * *

Being with Elijah brings a quiet sense of security in her life she has not known since her daughter was snatched just centimetres from her fingertips.

He makes her warm blood in the mornings, and they share it together on the breakfast bar. "We are domesticated vampires," Katherine says with a laugh one night when he kisses her. "Who ever heard of those?"

* * *

"I love you," he whispers into the crook of her neck not even one month since their meeting.

"You should," she replies, which makes him laugh.

They sit on the couch and talk about taking a holiday somewhere, of seeing the world together.

She wears his shirt and threads her fingers through his with a wicked smile. His hands go automatically to her waist and all talk of holidays stops for the time being.

But when she thinks of sun kissed skin and salt flavoured lips, she thinks of it as something she would like to share with him.

They could travel to Rome, and she could run her fingers over the cracked stone of the Colusseum and they could talk about what life was like when they were there so long ago.

Or they could travel to a small plot of land in the Amazon rainforest, untouched by people and surrounded by plush greenery and chirping parrots with blue and yellow and red feathers, and they could be happy. Happiness is always something she envisions when thinking about a future with him.

* * *

"He wants you because there's a way to break the spell his mother put on their family and make them human again."

The witch spins out from a dark alleyway and joins Katherine mid step as she is going to find some coffee for them.

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"The Original, Elijah. He wants you to love him so he can break the curse. I just felt like I should let you know."

A clap of thunder booms ominously over head, and Katherine feels the world teeter on its axis.

"Are you telling me the truth?" She looks the witch directly in her eyes, and when she nods, Katherine takes off at a run for the hotel, stopping midway when she realises she should be running away from him.

I want to talk about this, she thinks with dismay as the rain begins to pour, as if we were in a real relationship.

The street is deserted in a matter of seconds, but Katherine stands there in her soaked jeans and tank top, unable to move forward or back.

"What are you doing out here in this rain?" He says, gripping her face in his hands. "I came to see what was taking you, what are you doing?"

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"You only want me because I'll break the curse."

"Who told you that?" His hands grip her face tighter and she realises she is going to cry.

"It is true, isn't it?"

"Look at me," he looks her in the eye with a steel flecked gaze she can't rip her eyes away from. "I love you. I don't care about the cure- there was a time when I did, but not now. The only thing I care about right now is you."

Something tells her he is not lying in the same instant something tells her to leave him now because she is taking too many chances.

"I love you," Katherine says, twisting his fingers into hers and knowing she will be human soon.

It does not seem so bad a life when it will be spent with Elijah next to her.

"We'll have children," he smiles down at her, rain forgotten and she laughs and kisses him. They will have a daughter, beautiful and smart and loved, to make up for all the loss they have suffered, and son they will bring up properly, not the way he and his siblings were brought up at all.

There is no peace in eternity, Katherine understands.

* * *

_a/n: beauty and the beast! I had to twist it a lot to get it to fit my vision of Katherine and Elijah. I think either aladdin or cinderella will be next, because I have an idea about aladdin already so yay!_

_oh, and, in Red Riding Hood, do you guys think that Elijah would be the 'wolf' or the huntsman?_


	4. aladdin

Katherine stepped forward, smudged khol under eyes from where she had been crying just minutes before.

"I had not counted on you being so difficult…" her father's mouth twisted in displeasure and she felt the twinge she always did when she disappointed him. He did not deserve to have such an effect on her. "You always did your duty so well."

"I understand what my duty is, and I shall do it," she said coldly, fingers twisting into a fist where they were hidden in the silks of her dress. She meant it too, and he must know that she did, from the way he inclined his head to show her that her presence was no longer needed.

"My wedding, and they do not mean to have me there for the preparations." Her ringed fingers rested in Raja's fur, stroking it absentmindedly as she took a seat in the water gardens that were now bathed in moonlight.

The soft rush of the waterfalls surrounding her and the crickets chirping in the trees outside calmed her almost instantly, and Katherine wished for a moment her anger was not so fleeting. Women could do so much with anger- she would know, she had seen her mother use her anger to fight her way out of a sickly body and run off with the love of her life.

She would have to get rid of Raja too if she was to move to Rome, Katherine realised with a sinking feeling. Having a tiger in the midst of her families' spacious compound in the mountains was all well and good, but she doubted her new family would be so accepting as to allow a tiger into their house.

Her betrothal had been set up with Klaus Mikaelson, and apparently the Mikaelson name carried some weight in Rome, even though she had heard whispers that he was a bastard and he wasn't even a first son besides. True, her father did not come from royalty, but they had enough money to secure her at least a first son to marry.

"I have heard you are unhappy with the betrothal, my lady," Klaus melted from the shadows around the gardens soundlessly, and Katherine narrowed her eyes, wondering why Raja hadn't notified her of his presence.

She rose quietly, the purple silk of her gown shimmering in the moonlight as she did so. "If I have acted in any way to give you that impression, I am sorry. That was not my intention."

Klaus smiled at her, and the thought for a moment that he was handsome flitted into her brain- although he did not have the strong, darker features she had always favoured in her men.

"If you accept my proposal, I promise you, I shall do my utmost to keep you from being unhappy. I have quite a lot of funds at my disposal, and we shall have a grand marriage if you accept me."

Katherine nodded and smiled as was expected of her; after all, he had just given her quite a touching little speech that most husbands would not do for their wives. She extended her hand for him to kiss, and pretended fatigue in order to retire to her rooms in peace.

* * *

The first thought that crosses Elijah's mind when Katherine is introduced to him by Klaus, as his 'fiancée' is that she is not just stunning- she is _otherworldly._ Tatia had been pretty, in a calm way, for he had never seen Tatia outside of the rough blue wool she always wore, and she was always unfailingly nice and sweet in such a peaceful manner it was hard to feel high emotion in her presence.

But Katherine is so much more. She holds herself with the easy grace of a queen, dressed in nothing but red silks that leave her pale shoulders bare in a way that he knows will be the envy of most of the women in Rome when she is introduced as Klaus' wife. Her hair is fixed in a loosely curled updo which is set off by rubies he recognises as belonging to Rebekah, before she ran off with Kol somewhere.

"Lord Mikaelson," She inclines her head towards him and bobs into a curtsey low enough to be described as impertinent.

"Call me Elijah," He says, brushing his lips over her hand and smiling at her with a clenched jaw.

History must not be allowed to repeat itself, Klaus had whispered to him before her arrival. We must play our parts perfectly.

He did not like it, he would admit that. He did not enjoy keeping up this façade that Katherine was to marry his brother and live with perfect harmony with him for the rest of her life. A quick compulsion would have done the job, but Klaus had always enjoyed playing with his prey before he killed them.

"Allow me to show you around the house," she slips the length of her bare arm through his and tosses a smile over her shoulder to Klaus.

"Call me Katherine," is all she says after they are out of earshot of the others. "After all, we are to be brother and sister."

"Very well, Katherine. Would you like to be shown your chambers first, or the house?"

"The house, I suppose. I would know my future home sooner rather than later."

She smiles up at him and Elijah thinks with a pang of jealousy that Tatia was always better suited to him than Klaus, heightwise. Katherine is even more so- she holds herself with a towering grace that makes Klaus shrink in comparison to her.

"Is this only Klaus' home, or do all of you live here?"

"All of us live here. Me and Klaus are the only ones who actually reside here permanently, but our siblings drop in quite often."

"I've never had siblings, although I did have Raja, and he was good enough."

He knows that she had a pet tiger that was sold to the circus the minute she left her home, and he thinks with a wry smile that the pet suits her.

"Come," Elijah smiles at her and tucks a stray curl behind her ear, bright eyes shining like jewels. His brother will dim her light. "I shall show you to your chambers."

* * *

The dagger is beautiful- silver twisted and burned into the sigil of her family's house, inlaid with tiny emeralds. Katherine fingers it, careful not to catch her fingers on the sharp edges. Her mother gave it to her, and told her to use it on herself if anything happened to her.

Not: come back to me if they mistreat you darling, we'll keep you safe. No, Katherine has been told to kill herself if her husband mistreats her.

She will not give them the satisfaction of even laying a single finger on her. It takes one deep breath for her to make up her mind.

She pockets the dagger.

It's not yet night- the sky is painted a beautiful pink-purple which is darkening by the second. Katherine waits for thirty counted beats before she strides confidently from her room and into the thick foliage of the gardens.

Hands brush against the berried trees, occasionally plucking the odd fruit and squeezing it in her fingers. She can see the wall, looming and massive ahead of her, rough cobbles moulded together. The woods come alive as she makes her way to the outer gate, the one she knows is manned by only one servant.

"Katherine?" Her heart jumps to her throat; her hand jumps for her dagger.

"Elijah?" She peers into the gloom and sighs, returning the dagger to the large pocket of her dress. She cannot possibly kill her brother in law.

"Where are you going this time of night?"

"Only to pick up a few things from my dressmakers'. It's quite safe, I assure you. I've done it a lot of times."

Lies, she knows, but reaches the gate with him beside her. Now all he needs to do is leave her alone and she can go.

"Allow me to escort you," His hand moves to her upper arm and she exhales finally, for the first time since this whole marriage ordeal began, as they pass through the first gate.

Now all she has to do is get rid of Elijah, but when she turns to face him, mouth set in a grim line, she fears that it will be a harder task than anticipated.

* * *

She's nervous having him around her- which is so blatantly obvious, in the way she peers into every alleyway as if she is searching for a quick escape. He doesn't have to stretch his ears to hear her pulse, frantic as if she is a bird in a cage.

"Listen…" Katherine says when they reach the dressmaker's, laying one hand on his arm and turning him towards her. "I think you should leave now."

"Nonsense. I will escort you inside."

"I don't want to go inside."

He feigns surprise- it has been painfully obvious to him from the start that the story of visiting her dressmakers was nothing but a lie, and he did not have to be a vampire to recognise it. "Why ever not?" He asks lowly, following her as she steps deftly into the dark of the alleyway.

"Elijah," She looks up at him, skin gleaming in the night as she reaches out to clasp his large hand between two of hers. "I do not want to get married to your brother."

"The betrothal is already fixed."

"Yes," She breathes, hand disappearing into the folds of her dress as she steps away from him. "But I cannot go through with it. Please, leave me here and I shall be fine."

He looks around at the filthy streets of Rome and back to Katherine, clad in another jewel toned silk, shoulders bared proudly to the world, and knows she will not survive a minute in Rome. It is only that they have a great need of her blood, he tells himself, which prompts him to place an arm around her small shoulders and steer her out of the alleyway.

"Please," she pleads, squirming under his grip as they renter the main streets of Rome, undercover of the darkness which has now fully set.

"Shh," he whispers into her ear, and she stills immediately, twisting to look at him with wide, mistrustful eyes. "I'll help you run," He spills out impulsively, curling his fingers through hers.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I care about you," He says, and Katherine arches an eyebrow that tells him she does not trust him at all. "I couldn't leave a lady alone in Rome, and if the betrothal is so distasteful to you, I would not make you go through with it."

Elijah watches Katherine's face clear slightly, as she accepts that it is nothing but duty that makes him wish to protect her, and he wants to tell her as she slides her hand into him and allows him to lead her away to a carriage, that it goes so much deeper than that. Theirs is a story that dates to a half-stranger who wore her face that he could not save, the girl who turned their family into monsters.

Instead he settles across from her in the carriage and watches her watch him, trying to fight sleep to ensure that he will not drag her back to Klaus.

"Sleep," he tells her, but she shakes her head, jutting her chin out and forcing her eyes to widen.

"I'm not tired."

Katherine waits until they are in the very outskirts of Rome before her eyelids finally droop shut, every line of tension dropping from her body. She leaves Elijah to make perhaps the hardest decision of his life; on whether or not to take her back to Klaus, or allow this innocent eighteen year old to run. He has many sins that need absolving when it comes to the Petrova line.

* * *

She lets him take her onto a ship, which he promises will transport her to England, and in turn, complete safety. They sleep in adjoining cabins at night, tossing and turning with the rolling of the foam specked waves, and she watches him through the cracks in the wood.

Elijah never sleeps.

Katherine watches him read countless novels, write countless letters, and even sit in complete silence with nothing to occupy his mind, yet he never sleeps. Try as she might- she is always the one who drops off first, and by the time she has awoken, he is already up and out on the deck of the ship.

She is determined, at least by the end of this little voyage, to have seen him sleeping at least once, or at the very least, find what ails him so and see if she can do anything about it. Elijah is unfailingly kind, and unfailingly polite, and Katherine knows that if it were he that she was betrothed to, she would have not objected to the marriage.

The storm that catches them a few days away from England strikes when she is sleeping, and Katherine finds herself flung into the wall by her bed as the waves begin to batter their ship. The goblet of wine Elijah keeps on his desk is thrown across the room and through the cracks in her wall, and Katherine looks at the red substance with sleep glossed eyes and it strikes her that it is blood.

Her heart skips a beat in her chest, and Katherine feels rather than sees Elijah move towards her, his eye suddenly pressed against the crack in the walls.

"Katherine?", He says, and she pulls back with a gasp for air.

There is blood on his lips, she thinks, and forces herself to smile at him. "I-I was just woken by the storm," she stammers, mind racing frantically as she tries to work out why-why?- would a man have blood on his lips. The sound of softly spoken horror stories told to her by her mother when she was younger curls across her memory, and she draws the sheets around her in an effort to disguise her shudder.

"You seem distressed. Allow me to come over."

Katherine scrambles for the window of her cabin, trying not to think about creatures that drank human blood-the blood of little girls is the best blood- her mother used to say, and laugh as she tickled the underside of Katherine's cheek. It's too small, she thinks, looking at the few panels of glass and pressing her back to the hard wood.

"Stay away from me," She calls, reaching for the dagger that she always keeps on her person.

"Calm down," Elijah's hands come for her arms, and she wants to relax into them as she has done so many times before, but she _can't._

"Stay away from me," She repeats, and then feels the dagger slide into the soft flesh of Elijah's stomach.

"Oh god," Katherine says, pulling the dagger out and allowing it to drop to the floor. I've killed him, she thinks- my only hope and I've killed him, he's gone-

Before her eyes, the gaping wound closes through the thin fabric of his toga, and the dreams of monsters are back. "No," She presses back into the wood again, and when Elijah looks at her with his face impassive as ever, she wants to vomit.

"Calm down," His arms come to rest either side of her face, but she cannot stop looking at the stain of dark blood on his toga.

"How can I be calm?!" She screams, and pushes against his chest- a chest that was bleeding just moments ago- trying to stop the spread of tears down her face.

* * *

Elijah looks at her, caged in his arms as skittish as a deer, and feels a pang he has not felt for centuries. She did not deserve this, and he had tried so very hard to keep it from her, but it was better she found the truth out from him, than from Klaus so much later on, when he drained her dry of blood.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, and he knows it is a futile question, but he cannot think of what to say. If only he were good with words, then he would be able to convince her that he only ever wanted to protect her, because of the girl he could not protect, and because now, he has seen the light in Katherine, the sparkle and the gleam in her eyes, and does not want anyone to snatch it from her.

"I did..." She trails off, biting her bottom lip with her tongue.

"Let me explain," He pleads, clutching one of her hands and steering her to her bunk.

He tells her as best he can, of Tatia and Klaus and the spells that his mother weaved around them, to make them souless creatures, destined to forever roam the Earth with no solace.

"He wants you for your blood," he tells her softly when he finishes. Katherine shudders and looks down at their interlocked fingers.

"Help me," She says, "To run."

"Of course."

"I am the last. I will be the last. I want you to promise you will turn me when I ask. No others should suffer the same fate as me."

"No," he agrees, and reaches to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, as he did so long ago when they first met, when he was certain she would just be another on a long list of sins.

She smiles up at him, and he watches her gaze drop to his lips. She knows what she is doing, he reminds himself, she cannot possibly feel anything for me after everything I have just told her-

She kisses him.

He kisses her back even though he knows he probably shouldn't. Elijah is a fool who always repeats his mistakes, but he has a feeling she will be the last repeat of this particular act. Her lips are soft and gentle against his and he leans into the kiss, pressing her down onto the rough mattress of her bed. Katherine looks up at him and cups his face.

"Did you only like me because of her?"

"No," He breathes, and he watches distrust flicker on her face until he wipes the expression away with a kiss of his own. "No, I believe I love you for yourself."

* * *

a/n: thank you for reading! this is not how I wanted this one to turn out, but it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and I just had to publish it, let me know what you think!

also thank you so so much for the reviews so far, they really help me work on my writing and improve it, which I really enjoy doing


	5. assassins AU

Katherine checked her watch again, deliberately pulling her hand out in a direct gesture and suppressing a yawn. He was late; it was most unlike him. She looked around the marbled foyer of the ancient chapel and saw the empty seats inside; worn from hundreds of years of use. _Fine,_ she thought, tossing her phone back into her clutch bag and adjusting the deceptively demure cut of her dress. _I shall go on without him. _

She sank into the pew furthest from the cross at the very end and made a show of lowering her eyes and pretending to pay. She knew the picture she painted- a young girl with her dark hair gathered at the nape of her neck, dressed in a high collared blouse, head bent in silent prayer. The very picture of piety.

Not ten seconds after she closed her eyes she heard the footfall directly behind her. She didn't even have to try; she could visualise the dark Italian leather shoes that the wearer would have on his feet. She had him memorised, and that was dangerous. Especially in her line of work.

Katherine kept her eyes lowered and focused on the feel of the dagger strapped to her hip, the cold steel ready and waiting if she needed to use it. Elijah slid in next to her- she felt the shift of the cushions as they sank a little lower.

"Any news?" He murmured, and she knew he was pretending to pray in the same way as he.

"Tonight," Katherine whispered in the barest breath, drawing herself up and making the sign of the cross in front of her eyes. "Gala. 137."

She left him then, straightening up and adjusting the skirt of her dress before clicking quietly out of the chapel without daring to throw him more than a passing glance. He's changed; the shadows around his eyes have deepened and his hair is cropped shorter than it used to be, but she'd recognise him anywhere.

And being sent to kill your entire family could do that to a guy.

Katherine refused to look back as she exited the chapel, ignoring the thrum of _something _that was always present when he was around her. He felt it too, she knew he did. They were both far too professional to do anything about it.

She hailed a taxi and pushed her sunglasses further up her nose, wincing against the glare of the harsh sunlight and clutching the stack of files in her arms even tighter than before.

Once back in her hotel room, she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief that the first part was over. The first part of any operation was always the worst- she had to lie in wait for weeks, months even, before she could strike. And sometimes, she just itched for a kill.

At least now, she had something to look forward to, she thought, sinking deeper into her bathtub and relaxing into the jasmine scented water. Even though Elijah was back- and that never boded well for her emotions.

She had to leave, after this one, she promised herself. There was a danger in getting too attached to her partner, and she'd crossed that line too long ago. She could still remember-

_His hands were covered in blood, dripping, burning red that was drying and cracking. Katherine looked at him with impassive eyes before taking his hands in her own. _

_"Elijah," She started and he turned his face away from her to look out at the waters of Venice stretched out beneath them, calm and still. A complete contrast to what they'd just been through. _

_"No," He said, and she realized too late that he was shaking. "I will never be able to remove these stains."_

_Katherine couldn't say anything, because it was true. Instead, she raised herself onto her tiptoes and pressed one soft kiss to his lips before detaching herself and walking away._

- A year ago, but it still haunted her. She was sure it was the same for him

* * *

The gala was overflowing with guests, the kind of filthy rich men and women who had more money than sense. Katherine stepped in unnoticed from a back entrance and was immediately snatched up by the crowd.

It never ceased to amaze her how easily the lies slipped from her lips; how quickly these fools believed them. She adjusted the bodice of her strapless gown and smiled at the billionaire in front of her, lipglossed and perfect as usual.

"You look stunning," He said, and she inclined her head in thanks.

"Tell me," Katherine reached and nonchalantly placed one hand on his arm, tossing her curls back and smiling up at him. "Do you know where our host is?"

_It was so easy to charm men, _she thought, catching the way his eyes followed the clinging silk of her gown; of the length of her legs in their heels in the slit of her gown. It gave the impression of clinging to ever bit of skin, all the while completely disguised the dagger strapped to her thigh.

"Excuse us," Elijah appeared at her shoulder and shot the man a warning smile, taking her by the arm and leading them out to the dance floor.

Katherine pressed into his body and faked a smile for appearance's sake before pinching him sharply on the arm. Elijah rolled his eyes and looked down at her with a frown. "Be subtle," He whispered into her cheek and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

"I know what I'm doing," She snapped, a little more forceful than she intended. "Look at that man- he's too drunk to remember my face, let alone anything I asked him."

"And if he does?" Elijah's tone was dangerous as he dipped her, and Katherine allowed him the movement for a few seconds, looking up at him with her hair spilling over his forearm and forcing a smirk onto her face.

"He won't," She brought herself up and placed two of her hands onto his chest, already aware of the presence across the room. "But if he does, you have permission to kill me."

With that, she slipped from his grasp and cut through the crowd quickly, reaching the old man within seconds. He was observing the scene with a small smile gracing his lips, and Katherine snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took her place next to him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He remarked, and Katherine took in the sparse white hair on his head and the wrinkled hand grasping the stem of his glass and almost felt bad about the fact that she would kill him within the hour.

Then again, he'd killed more people than she'd known in the little town in Bulgaria where she'd grown up, so his end would be deserved.

"You've outdone yourself," She agreed, leaning on the banister behind them. "I don't suppose you could show me the art collection you're always banging on about?"

The question made her heart beat faster; this would make or break her evening. She'd spent six months slowly worming her way into his life, careful to ensure he knew her well enough to trust her, but she never grew close enough to him to be worth mentioning to her friends. And all the while, she kept the bile at bay as she pretended to be friendly with the man who had killed her entire family.

"Of course," He said with a smile, and she almost sagged with relief.

"I'll meet you up there," Katherine beamed at him. "I've just got to pop to the restrooms."

She had no desire to go to the restrooms; she was in fact more worried about the fact that people would see them leaving together.

Katherine waited exactly sixty seconds, making sure to speak to some people before she went, making her presence known. Elijah was waiting on the outskirts on the room and she gave him a firm nod, a quick signal that meant- _stay there_- before she made her way to the art gallery upstairs.

* * *

She was almost shaking with anticipation by the time she pushed open the heavy door, dagger concealed in her elbow length gloves. He smiled at her, pausing in his examination of a Monet to welcome her.

Katherine shut the door behind her and pulled the dagger from her glove.

He didn't even look surprised; only took a seat in a heavy armchair and stubbed his cigar on the ashtray. "Which one are you?" He asked, tone almost amused, and Katherine wanted to slap the smile off his face.

"Bulgaria," She admitted with a lethal smile, stepping a little closer to him. "1989."

"A great shame," He said, and curled his fingers around his glass of whiskey. "But unavoidable. I can offer you the world now darling, if you'd just take it from me."

She supposed that it was the offer he'd given to the others that came before her, and knew he'd have something up his sleeve to tempt her. Katherine reminded herself that all she had to do was not listen to him. "No," She said firmly, and raised her hand, poised to strike.

"Very well," he muttered, "Then your partner- is that what you call him?- will die too."

Katherine felt her heart stop in her chest and clenched her nails into her palms. _So stupid, _she thought.

"So choose. Elijah dies if I do."

_And we both die if you don't,_ she realized and closed her eyes.

She hears the heavy footfall before the man in front of her does, and the smirk returns full force. "Or, we could revert back to original plan," She said, "And you could be the only casualty from this little meeting."

Katherine doesn't bother looking behind her this time; she goes for the jugular.

_"If you go for the jugular, it's sixty seconds of pain. It takes that long for them to bleed out if you cut them properly._" He'd said to her once, when they'd been fresh from training, before they knew each other as well as they did now.

Katherine waited for the light in blue eyes to be extinguished before she turned to face Elijah. "You shouldn't have come." She said, glancing at the revolver in his hands. "It would have worked better with me alone."

She stepped over the crumpled body in front of her and made for the door, stopping when he called her name.

"Where are you going?"

Katherine shrugged and swept her hair to one side. "No idea. Venice, maybe." Elijah flinched, and she turned away again.

"Katherine-"

"Yes?"

"You didn't kill me."

"No." She said finally, offering him a small smile. He looked good, sharp and handsome in a pressed suit, and she imagines herself tugging him to her by the length of his tie and kissing him.

"Katherine."

"_What?__" _She snapped, because in all honesty she really needed to get out of there before she did something stupid.

He kissed her; grabbed her waist and tugged her unceremoniously to him, and when his tongue slipped into her mouth he tasted of whiskey. It was messier than before- Katherine wrapped her legs around his waist and sent him toppling down onto the soft carpet, and they both knew that there was a danger in being caught, and that was what spurred them on.

In the end, Elijah amounted to a quick fuck in front of the man she'd just murdered.

* * *

He didn't find her until three months after; she wasn't even sure that he'd tried.

Katherine handed in her resignation that very night and left the country, losing herself in Japan for exactly one month before she turned away and went back to England. Hiding wasn't going to anything, she told herself and went back to her townhouse and found herself a nine to five job as a compute programmer.

She enjoyed it. She didn't expect Elijah to turn up soaking on her doorstep not one month after she'd finally settled into her new routine, caught in the storm. Katherine let him in without a word, and went to fetch him a towel so that he could dry himself off.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, standing in front of him.

"You quit. Without telling me."

"Yes. I didn't think you'd care."

"That's bullshit if I ever heard it, Katherine," He said, and snaked his hands under her knees, buckling them and sending her teetering into his lap. "Did you leave because of me?"

Katherine knew that if it was anyone else who'd taken such liberties with her she would have killed them by now. _This is the reason I needed to leave,_ she thought.

"It was a number of reasons. My time was basically up."

"So you left me." She's astonished by the degree of hurt in his voice, and she looked down at him, shifting in his arms.

"I left the life. It's nicer now. You did your part- killed your entire family- you need to leave now, while you're ahead." He looked at her like he wanted to do just that, move in with her and get a nine to five and have kids and puppies, the works. Katherine would die before she admitted it to him, but she wanted him to do that too.

She kissed him in an effort to let him know what she's thinking, and when he peppers kisses across her collarbones just like he knows she likes, because _he knows her_. She couldn't help the whisper that escaped her lips.

"Stay," Katherine said, and Elijah did.

* * *

_A/N this idea was festering and I wanted to flesh it out a lot more but oh well. Not entirely happy with this one, but oh well. And I know it's not a fairy tale but use your imaginations! :D_

_New chapter of no one does it better should be up on Tuesday, if I finish writing it yay!_


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